


Five Times Dean Tried to Get Cas Naked and One Time He Succeeded

by ambersagen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Strip Tease, Top!Cas, Wingfic, bottom!Dean, hurt!Dean, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 16:09:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3984409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just wants to see Cas' hot bod.</p><p>Season 4-5 fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Dean Tried to Get Cas Naked and One Time He Succeeded

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually one of the first fics I wrote but it never made it over here? Enjoy!

He was staring, he knew that, but _damn_. Dean shifted in his seat, leaning forward as he watched Cas reach higher on the shelf, fingers brushing along the spines of obscure, ancient tombs as the angel looked fruitlessly for something that might help them stop this goddamn apocalypse, watching as shoulder blades flexed visibly through the fitted white shirt.  Dean sucked in a breath, knowing it was suspicious, but, man, his dignity could jump right out the window and good riddance to it.

This was what he had worked so hard for, taking days with his plan, casually dropping comments about casual wear, making small jokes about holy tax accountants and people who wear the same thing day after day. And _finally_ , finally he had done it. He had convinced Cas to take off the jacket; the trench coat that Dean, in his admittedly horny mind, had come to associate with a Badass-Angel-of-the-Lord coming to save him. Which was hot.

But _this_. This was something else. Dean’s eyes traced every press of skin against cloth greedily, not at all worried about what anyone might think if they saw him, because this thing between Cas and him? It always involved large amounts of inappropriate staring. So no big deal right? _And if he imagined those fine shoulder blades curving out into something larger, graceful but with power. Soft feathers spreading out coal black beneath Dean’s fingers –trembling with pleasure as Dean fucked Cas senseless into the mattress…_

Don’t think about that, he chided himself as he sat back again. That was different. Here and now Cas was almost as good as human. He was flesh and blood and something you could touch, or at least dream about touching. And it’s not like Dean hadn’t gotten handsy with his fair share of men in his life. He knew damn well he played for both teams—just not where Sam or his father would ever find out. No, it wasn’t that. Dean just preferred his wet dreams to be filled with realistic, human bodies. Dragging an angel down into the mud with him and throwing in that whole profound bond thing? The fact that his sorry ass had been literally dragged out of hell by this divine creature? Yeah, not cool. Dean had been to hell thank you very much, and he did not plan on a return visit anytime soon. There were just lines a dude shouldn’t cross, regardless of the angelic piece of ass staring him tantalizingly in the face.

He breathed out harshly, grabbing his beer and finishing it in one fast gulp.

Better stick to the here and now, where Cas at least _looked_ average. Well, average in a totally fuckable way, but more importantly, he looked _human_. Look but do-not-touch kind of human.

“Dean, if you are going to just sit there and drink then please do so quietly,” Cas rumbled, breaking through Dean’s internal monologue with disapproval.

“Huh?” Dean said, staring up at where his angel was perched on a stool, still sorting through books that were way too precariously stacked on Bobby’s full shelves.

“I said, shut up Dean,” Cas replied, turning to frown absent mindedly in his direction. “Your sighing is grating on my nerves.”

Blushing, Dean sulked down in his chair, unwilling to give up his view. Sam was fucking around in the kitchen, something to do with practicing wards, which meant Dean was effectively banned from the vicinity. Plus, there was the awkward problem he was experiencing ‘downstairs’ at the moment. Dean Winchester was no coward, but the last thing he wanted to try was to sneak past an Angel of the Lord and his own brother with a raging boner.

 

-

 

It was only a few weeks later that another opportunity for an angelic peepshow fell into Dean’s lap.

They were in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, up Montana way while they laid low for a bit to shake the devil, and Dean was shuffling around dusty knick-knacks littering the cabin floor of their latest home base. It was like a whole forest had been stuffed into the small space in the form of carved bears eating fish. He grumbled as he knocked over a dusty lamp in the shape of antlers.

Flustered, he made a shooing motion at Cas, who had been standing like a lump in a crowded corner of the room. Cas moved into the middle of the space Dean gestured to with no comment, his eyes locked on Dean’s face the whole time, having lost no intensity despite the claims he made about his current occupation of falling.

“I don’t understand,” Cas stated, tone argumentative but body putting up no resistance as Dean pulled off the angel’s trench coat under the pretense of wanting to hang it up properly for him. “Why should I wish to change my clothing if I find no discomfort in my current attire?”

Ignoring Cas’ fussing for a second, Dean quickly navigated his way across the room to the closet, practically throwing the garment on a hook and dropping it on the floor in his hurry.

“I told you, we need to blend in,” he said, snapping the door shut with satisfaction, confining Cas to real clothes for what he hoped would be the rest of the hunt. Grabbing some stuff, he was almost bouncing in his excitement as he walked back over to Cas, handing the frowning angel a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. “You stick out like a protestant at a rock concert right now.” Dean smirked as Cas doubtfully held the clothes up to his figure. “Sorry to break it to you, but nobody goes fishing in a suit dude.”

Cas frowned, eyeing the clothes disdainfully. “I was present at the creation of the earth. I saw the oceans develop and humans evolve from single celled organisms. The details of western attire proper for 21st century fishing retreats has yet to be important to me.”

Dean felt his grin slipping. His stomach dropped as Cas gave a sigh, as if resigned to the insignificance of his current existence. Fuck, he was such an ass-hole, letting his horny need to play dress up with Cas overshadow the fact that Cas was losing everything to come and play in the mud with the monkeys.

Feeling slightly nauseous, he stepped back. “Sorry, I—you should go get changed,” fuck. Dean took a shaky breath, turning away from Cas, who was looking at him now with that suspicious, concerned squint. Damn it, he would have to be a selfish motherfucker to make this about himself and his guilt.  Cas’ falling was his fault, so he didn’t get to feel sorry. Suck it up Winchester. He cleared his throat, thumping himself down into a dusty sofa in an effort to get off eye level with the angel as the dude shuffled off to change, still trying to school his features into blankness when Cas came out of the bathroom, all set up in his undercover outfit.

 “So, how does it feel?”

“They are…more restrictive than I am used to,” Cas said slowly, shifting experimentally. Dean dug his nails into his thigh as he watched denim pull across the angel’s thighs. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck. _“Abort!”_ his brain screamed at him as Cas bent forward, ostensibly to touch his toes as he tested his range of movement, but probably really from a secret and evil intent to make Dean jizz his pants like an excited teenager when a strip of skin became visible— _and, oh god, are those hipbones even legal?_

Disgusted with himself, Dean chucked the fishing vest at the startled angel as he jumped up off the couch. “It’s hot in here isn’t it? I want a beer, do you want one? No, of course not,” he babbled as he rushed to put his back to Cas and his rapidly rising boner to the empty kitchen. “You know what? I think we left all the alcohol in the car. I’m going to run out and get it. You should finish changing.”

He fled the scene in shame, tucking his metaphorical tail as Cas called after him with what sounded like worry. Yep, Dean Winchester was definitely the shitiest friend on the planet.

 

-

 

“Dude, you can’t just snap your fingers and mojo up everything you want anymore,” Dean said as he took Cas’ black suit coat, smoothing over the wrinkles as he folded it, setting it aside. He was pretty sure Cas’ whole outfit was dry clean only and while it wasn’t something he usually thought of, beyond the odd accident where their FBI monkey suits got caught in the crossfire of a hunt, Dean felt that he would be happy to get this outfit cleaned everyday if it kept Cas happy. “You have limited juice so we gotta save it for the big stuff alright? Stopping Lucifer from killing us all is a little more important than instant dry cleaning.”

For a while Cas simply fiddled with his tie before finally shrugging, his shoulders moving lethargically as he let the tie drop. “I don’t see that it matters,” he said, again with that lethargic tilt to his posture. “I will be running out of grace sooner rather than later, regardless of how careful I am to hoard it,” his tone was bitter. “I will soon be worse than useless to you. I can’t be your weapon for much longer. Soon I won’t be an angel and yet neither will I be human.”

Without conscious thought Dean found himself up in Cas’ personal space, anger overwhelming the alarm he had been feeling since stopping Cas from draining himself over a little demon blood on his clothes. He reached out, grabbing the angel’s tie and using it as leverage to pull his face up towards his own.

What the hell are you talking about?” Dean said, scanning Cas’ features as the angel blinked up confusedly at him, the dude’s equivalent of an open mouthed gape. “Because _I’m_ talking about keeping you alive and healthy, Cas, not keeping you like some supercharged weapon,” Cas’ face was slipping from surprised to stubborn, and Dean gave him a slight shake. “Jesus, Cas. Is that really what you think of us?” he said.

 _“Is that really what you think of me?”_ he didn’t voice.

Cas just looked at him, his expression clearly saying _“You’ll see. When things go south you’ll prove me right.”_

With a sharp intake of breath, Dean turned away from the angel, storming over to kick the door open. “You know what? Fuck you, Cas.” he said, before slamming the door behind him as he headed out to the nearest bar.

 

-

 

“Dean, look at me.”

The voice seemed so far away, Dean thought as he struggled to roll over. He was on the ground for some reason, laying in a puddle or something. He was soaking wet all up his side but…but it felt weird –warm? He opened his eyes –and why had they even been closed? He couldn’t remember, everything felt heavy and kind of disconnected. He closed his eyes again.

“Dean!”

Cas. That was Cas’ voice, somebody’s hand pressing against his cheek. Cas sounded worried, and worried was never good. He had to focus, if Cas was worried then he needed to get his act together and help. He opened his eyes and was surprised at the whimper of pain he heard. Was that him? He couldn’t tell. Cas’ face hovered above him, fading in and out of focus.

“Cas?” he coughed out, surprised again at the wet feeling at his side and in his chest. Was it blood? Cas’ face leaned forward a little at the sound of his voice, finally coming into focus as Dean felt the hand on his head –Cas’ hand –tilt him a little more upright.

“Cas? Are you ok?” Dean asked, alarm cutting through whatever fog he was in at the sight of Cas’ face and torso. He was covered in blood, splashes of it decorating his cheeks before spreading into large smears across his chest.

Cas gave a choked off laugh and Dean struggled to sit up. Cas doesn’t laugh, at least, not like that, not like someone just punched him in the gut and now he can’t breathe. As he pushed himself up onto his elbows a wave of pain hit him and if a second hand hadn’t moved to support his back Dean would have killed over pretty dramatically.

“Don’t move. Please, Dean. You –,” Cas said from somewhere above him, “You are infuriating. You always do this, get yourself torn to shreds and then turn around and ask me if I’m alright.”

Oh. So it was him who was bleeding like a stuck pig. Dean blinked as he felt himself being shifted from against Cas’ side –when did he end up in the dude’s lap anyway? Shit, he needed to focus. He felt the hand move from his back at the same time the hand on his head lifted to rest him against Cas’ knees instead.

“What…” Dean managed to moan as Cas shifted purposefully under him.

“Be still,” the angel said as he began tearing strips from the bottom of his dress shirt –and Dean didn’t even remember him taking off his coat –coats? There was skin showing now, Dean was sure of it, but as he felt the pressure of cotton pressed against his side the world started to go fuzzy again. _“Damn it, just when things were getting good,”_ Dean thought, frustration being the last thing he felt as he passed out, the roar of the oncoming dark covering Cas’ worried exclamation.

 

-

 

Cursing the rain, Dean frantically tried to shove the texts up under his jacket. He started to make his way up the road, hunching over the books to keep them dry. It only took a few near falls in the newly forming mud of the road before he gave up and shrugged off his coat, wrapping the books up carefully before taking off again towards the house. By the time he kicked the door open he was freezing and soaking wet.

“Hey Cas,” he said breathlessly as he dropped his burden on the table, nodding to the angel, who had come to stand in the living room doorway at the sound of Dean’s entry. “Jeez, it’s like a second great flood is starting up out there,” Dean joked as he carefully started unwrapping the texts. “Though with our luck I should probably shut my mouth,” he huffed in annoyance as water from his hair dripped on a precious leather cover, the spot of wet sinking in a dark splotch over the text, “Don’t wanna jinx anything,” he stepped back from the table, reaching around to peel off his soaked t-shirt.

Suddenly he felt a hand pressing firmly against his back, pinning down his shirt and causing him to jump in surprise.

“Cas?” he questioned, his voice coming out only slightly higher than he would have liked. It was strange; despite the continuation of their constant staring contest Cas hadn’t actually touched him at all since Dean’s brush with death about a month ago. Not that he was an overly physical guy, but there hadn’t even been the occasional shoulder brush or anything. He had figured that Cas was pissed that he had almost put himself in the hands of whatever angel was in charge of receiving and reviving dead Winchesters.

When he didn’t get any response from Cas except a slight increase in the pressure of the touch Dean twisted around to look at him, breaking contact with the pressure of his hand and twitching slightly when he found himself almost toe to toe with the angel. _Wow_ that was close, even for them. Meeting Cas’ eyes, he swallowed tightly, his mouth suddenly a bone dry contrast to the rest of his soaking wet self. There was a fire in Cas’ eyes and the strangest expression was on his face, an expression Dean couldn’t identify because, while he thought he knew what that look was, Cas did NOT wear that look. Cas is an angel and angels don’t look at people like they want to consume them, starting with their mouth and working their way down to more interesting climbs.

He was snapped out of his confused train of thought by the return of Cas’ touch, unable to suppress a startled shudder of breath as Cas’ palm pressed to his chest.

“Uhmm,” Dean floundered, feeling his brain shutting off at what was probably a perfectly innocent touch –just another angel misunderstanding about personal space. “Uh, Cas. I kinda need you to not do that,” he managed to choke out. “I need to get this thing off and grab some dry clothes,” he was talking too fast, his voice shaking too much. “Speaking of clothes I probably shouldn’t be doing this here so I’m uhh, going to grab some clothes and get toweled off,” he made an aborted attempt to step away, stopped when Cas’ hand clenched tightly into a fistful of his t-shirt, causing Dean to shudder at the drag of fingers along his chest as the wet fabric pulled tightly into the grip.

“No,” Cas said, and Dean almost jumped at the sudden statement. He could feel a flush starting to creep up his neck at the rough edge to the angel’s voice.

“No?” he squeaked, eyes barely able to meet Cas’ gaze. Jesus, that look was trying to burn right through him.

“Keep it on,” Cas said, fist remaining firmly on Dean’s chest. It was not a request.

“Dude, I gotta get changed,” Dean said, forcing humor into his voice. This was just a misunderstanding, this couldn’t possibly be happening. “I’m going to water damage Bobby’s floor –”

“I want you to leave it on,” Cas interrupted, dragging his free hand purposefully down Dean’s side, drawing a soft whine from the hunter that Dean couldn’t have stopped if he had tried.

He was too lost to try.

“I like you looking like this,”Cas rumbled, and Dean could have sworn there was an undertone of possessiveness in the words. Cas was almost pressed against him now, hands still ghosting up and down his sides as Dean stood there, a shuddering mess as he leaned back against the table and tried to gather his wits. But Cas seemed to want to make that impossible for him, and Dean felt the definite ghost of pressure against his dick as a leg was thrust between his thighs ever so slightly.

_“Dean.”_

With a grunt, Dean pushed away, bumping back against the table in an attempt to put some space between them.

“You want this,” it wasn’t a question and Dean looked away, unable to meet Cas’ eyes anymore because he couldn’t deny it.

“I thought so,” Cas said a tight frown settling in on his face as he tilted Dean’s chin firmly around to face him again. That frown deepened at whatever the angel read from the hunter’s expression. “You doubt,” Cas said, frustration barely coming through in his voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Cas,” Dean croaked out, “Hell, I don’t even know what we’re _doing_ right now!”

Cas scowled, reaching down to thread his fingers into the belt loops of Dean’s still damp jeans.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” he growled, pushing his face up against Dean, who pulled away slightly as Cas rubbed his stubble against the hunter’s cheek possessively. “I am going to touch you, if you’ll let me. I’m going to kiss you senseless against this table instead of waiting around for you to almost die again, then we are going to fuck and relieve some of this sexual tension that you seem to be intent on building indefinitely,” he emphasized this statement with a sharp tug on Dean’s jeans that had them half off his ass with the force.

Dean shuddered violently, “I just—I don’t,” desperately clutching at his angel’s shoulders as Cas purposefully flicked his fingers along Dean’s hips, dragging down his boxers, ruthlessly searching for a way to take him apart. Cas leaned in, laying feather soft kisses along the hunter’s jaw, causing Dean to pull away again. “You—can’t mean that,” Dean said with a groan, arching his chest against Cas as an exploring hand brushed teasingly along the barely visible cleft of his rear, now exposed, damp and chilled to the air of the kitchen. 

“I dragged you down Cas,” he said, words coming out in a hiss as he braced both palms against Cas’ hips, leaning forward to press his face into the clean fluff of Cas’ hair, because he couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. The guilt was almost overwhelming. “You’re falling, fighting your family, losing your _home_.”

“I may no longer have the power of the host,” Cas rumbled against Dean’s throat, nipping lightly at his pulse point as something seemed to build in the room that had Dean buzzing slightly, “But I will always be an angel. I do not lie. I know what I want.”

Dean growled, desperately trying not to thrust back into the hand brushing along his backside as the angel moved back up to suck along his jawline. There was something happening a few feet away in the empty space of the kitchen, shadows and crackling that should have been alarming. He was too busy to care.

“I never thought you were stupid Cas,” he said, and he felt his resolve crumble in the heat of whatever this was that was about to go down. Desperately, he grabbed at Cas, twisting to meet his lips, licking his way into the angel’s mouth greedily before breaking for air and pushing him away in a last ditched effort to stop this.

“You can’t want this. This world is tens kinds of fucked up and going to hell. _I’m_ fucked up. There are better ways to get laid if that’s what you need.”

Cas surged forward, startling a groan out of Dean as they collided in a strange gust of wind. Cas slammed their mouths together, one had coming up to fist painfully at the back of Dean’s scalp as the other gripped his shoulders fiercely as if in reminiscence of their ascent from hell. When Cas broke off the kiss Dean had a fleeting tang of copper on his tongue before Cas was back, roughly licking at the blood dripping from Dean’s lip.

 “You won’t let yourself see that I made my choice, my very first act of free will,” Cas said, frustration and something desperate hissing out with the words, as if he was in physical pain from just making Dean try to _understand_. “I chose you, and earth, and all of this mud and filth as you so choose to call it. I chose this because I think that with you, I can build a new home.” 

There was a buzzing in Dean’s ears, and something was blocking out the light from the ceiling fixture. He squinted, shaking his head as he pushed back from Cas to get a look at whatever it was that was going on behind the angel. He blinked. Then blinked again.

There were honest to god wings folding out behind his angel. Dean leaned against the table, no longer conscious of the shirt that stuck cold and wet across his chest, or the water dripping down the back of his neck. Cas had _wings. And they were beautiful._

A hand reached up to cup Dean’s cheek gently, and he found himself dumbly meeting his angel’s gaze as Cas smiled, all the anger of the last few minutes drained away by this strange unmasking.

“Dean?”

He swallowed, feeling his eyes pricking with something that felt horrifyingly like tears. “So,” he said, closing them resolutely as he heard his voice barely wobbling on the note, despite his conviction that he was going to fly apart at any second. “Still an angel huh?”

Cas moved in, slowly this time, kissing Dean like it was his first time and he wanted to be sure he got it right. The hands were back, dipping around his waist to tease back into his briefs.

Feathers brushed against his back, his shirt so wetly plastered to the skin that it may as well have been absent for all it did to block the sensation. Eyes screwed tight, Dean thrust his tongue into Cas’ mouth in a desperate attempt to trap the sounds he wanted to make as Cas moved one hand up to brush across the bulge of his erection.

“I know you need a physical reminder of the fact now and then,” Cas huffed into the human’s mouth, moving away from his lips again in what Dean was beginning to consider his endless obsession with Dean’s jaw. “Besides, if you really did drag me down as you say, what makes you thing I’ll let you leave me here alone?” he nipped at Dean’s ear, wings closing around them both. “I think it’s time you take responsibility, don’t you?”

The long, black feathers enfolded the two in their strong embrace, creating a small space just for them, cut off from the terrible outside world.

Suddenly he had had enough. Cas was here. Cas was willing, and damned if Dean wasn’t tired of his own bullshit.

“Please—” he whined, rutting against Cas, pushing him back and lifting off the table to his feet.

“What? Dean?” Cas questioned, desperation in his voice but control still to be found in the way he pulled back to allow Dean to move.

 _“Cas,”_ Dean gasped and kicked off his jeans completely as he tried to simultaneously maintain as much physical contact with Cas as possible. “I need you to fuck me,”

With a growl, Cas lifted him away from the table, both hands on his ass in a move that clearly demonstrated his superhuman strength was still online as Dean hooked his legs up around the angel’s waist. The kissed feverishly as Cas quickly marched into the living room, only coming up for air when he dropped Dean down onto the couch.

Dean gave a whine, reaching up to grab Cas’ tie and pull him down as well. Now that it was allowed he wanted his mouth on his angel, wanted to suck and lick every inch of skin that featured so prominently in all his fantasies of the last year. Cas’s mouth was busy wetting his fingers, wet sucking sounds driving Dean forward. He tightened his grip on the tie, threading his fingers through the silk as he started sucking hickies on whatever sweet patch of skin he could reach along Cas’ neck only breaking off to give a small hiss as Cas’ fingers entered him. His angel smelled of lightning and rain and Dean felt like he could get high off it.

Cas settled in closer, hitching Dean’s leg up and around his hips as he crowded down on him, wiggling for room on the tattered couch as he adjusted his angle, fingers thrusting shallowly in and out of Dean’s ass as he alternated one and two fingers at a time.

Dean had only worked the top two buttons of Cas’ shirt open when Cas decided he had waited long enough already and, after a clink of belt being ripped off and buttons popped he grabbed the underside of both of Dean’s knees, pushing Dean’s legs up towards his head. Dean groaned low in his throat as he felt the tip of Cas’ dick pressing against his barely prepped hole. He pushed in, slow but firm, with nothing but spit, rain and precome to ease the way.

Dean’s moans became short little grunts and whimpers as Cas set a quick and shallow pace. The burn was just right, and he felt incredibly stretched and full as he scrambled to find something to hold onto. His flailing hands were met briefly by Cas’ firm grip as the angel guided his palms to rest on his wings, and Dean almost jerked away in shock before lunging forward with what little range his position gave him to press his hands through those wonderful appendages. He closed his eyes again, half convinced that this was all some fantastic wet dream and he would never really get to touch like this again.

Dean hands fisted desperately in black feathers and strong muscle as he was pushed back against the rough cotton and stuffing of the couch. He felt electrified as Cas returned his own hands to Dean’s thighs, taking advantage of the extra bracing to deepen his thrusts, the sound of wet flesh slapping together and Dean’s moans echoed obscenely as he felt Cas’ wings gave minuscule beats in time to his thrusts.

Quick and dirty, Cas let go first, spilling hot and deep inside Dean. Dean barely registered the event, his focus slipping in and out like the wings pumping overhead moved in and out of his vision. When, satiated with orgasm, Cas folded his wings in, feather tips brushing gently along Dean’s shoulders, Dean finally lost it, orgasm pulsing through him s Cas gripped his hips tightly, hands stroking soothingly over his sides as Dean shuddered, untouched, through his climax.

They collapsed, tired and sticky and wet. Dean had the vaguest sense of guilt for messing up Bobby’s living room, but it was s very background thought, fighting upstream against the post coital bliss he felt buzzing through him right then. He dragged a finger up along Cas’ still fully clothed back, noting that the wings had disappeared, just as suddenly as they had arrived.

“We should really get cleaned up,” he murmured against the crown of Cas’ head. The angel was draped across him, not uncomfortably, but a little heavy. He still smelled of lightning, now mixed with sweat and come, and Dean felt a stab of possessiveness at the thought of washing all of that off. “Unless you can mojo us clean?” he asked hopefully as Cas gave a displeased mutter into his collar bone.

“No,” Cas grumped, wiggling until he was more fully draped around Dean, wrapping his arm around and underneath the hunter’s back. “I’m not supposed to waste my grace, remember? There’s Lucifer and the apocalypse and whatever.”

Dean groaned, doing a little of his own wiggling as he made himself more comfortable under Cas, despite the angel’s grumbling. “You little smart ass,” he said affectionately, pecking a kiss to the angel’s forehead. “Don’t use the freaking apocalypse against me. We are going to regret sleeping like this in the morning.”

Cas sighed, nose rubbing affectionately against Dean’s skin. “Perhaps. But it will be worth it.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello. I am a lonely person.  
> ambersagen.tumblr.com


End file.
